


Don't Leave Me

by aph_aleks (orphan_account)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, BPD, Borderline Personality Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, John is a dick, John is his FP, M/M, Paul has BPD, i love them, sad paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aph_aleks
Summary: Paul has BPD, John is his FP, and sometimes it gets tiring. For the both of them.Same AU as Favourite Person





	Don't Leave Me

_9:22 A.M._

**Macca❤︎:** Are you free today? 

**Macca** ❤︎: Johnny? 

**John:** Sorry, I can't :(

 **John:** I'm out with Stu right now

**Macca** ❤︎: Oh

 **Macca** ❤︎: Have fun then.

**John:** Love you x

**Macca** ❤︎: Mhm. 

"Who was that?" Stuart asked, raising an eyebrow at John. John smiled softly and turned his phone off, slipping it into his back pocket - he squinted in the sun. 

"It was Paul. Wondering if I was free today," He replied quietly, laughing heartily when Stuart almost tripped over a rock and fell, "But it's fine. I told him we were out together." 

"Stop laughing at me, John!" Stuart whined playfully, slapping him gently on the shoulder, "Arsehole." He smiled fondly, "Paul was fine with that?" He asked, still smiling as an effect from what had just happened - him almost _falling over_ , John laughing at him, their _giggling_ \- his smile was contagious, and so John smiled too. God, they were acting like teenage girls, _besties -_ like they could start gossiping to one another about _boys_ or talk shit about other girls behind their backs - John cringed at the thought. He _did_ talk shit about people, and he _did_ talk about boys, but they weren't _teenage girls -_ he laughed at the prospect, laughed again, and then Stu laughed. Laughter was contagious. 

"Doesn't matter, Stu, let's go to the beach, it's a hot day."

John and Paul's first date was on the beach. They held hands and laughed for hours, sharing kisses on the wall that faced towards the sea, legs dangling in the water when the tide came in early. It had been a beautiful fucking day, and when the evening came, the sky was a gorgeous gradient of orange and yellow, the blue sky very light but still there - John remembered that day extremely clearly. He had told Paul how beautiful he was and hugged him when they parted to go to their separate houses. That day was the best day he'd ever had. 

_Paul._

His mind wouldn't stop nagging him, wouldn't stop saying his name, and he tried to ignore it. He didn't have to do _everything_ with Paul, he could hang out with Stu without Paul. He didn't need to be there for everything John did, like he couldn't exist without John next to him, because he could, and the older feared the worst sometimes. Because sometimes John wanted to leave to go somewhere while they were hanging out, maybe even just the shops to get them drinks, but Paul would not let him leave, he'd beg him to stay. 

_"Please don't leave, Johnny!"_

Paul had pouted. 

_"Because if you leave you'll realise you don't want me and never come back!"_

John had stayed. 

He sighed and looked back at Stu, who seemingly had been trying to get his attention for a while, waving a hand in front of his face slowly, "John? What'cha thinking about?" 

John snorted out a laugh, "Oh, nothing," He laughed again, and then Stuart laughed. They both laughed hysterically, almost doubling over, even though there was nothing really _funny_ going on. Stu's presence always made him laugh, being around him made him happy for some reason - partly why he hung out with Stu so much instead of Paul. 

_Paul._

_10:00_

**Macca❤︎:** Hey

 **Macca❤︎:** Can you come around after you've been out with Stu? 

"Stu?" John asked suddenly through his soft giggles, and looked at him intensely, "Want to sleep 'round tonight?" 

"Uh, yeah, okay." Stu replied slowly. 

**Macca❤︎:** John? 

**John:** Sorry, can't. Stu's sleeping around mine. 

**Macca❤︎:** Oh

 **Macca❤︎:** Sorry

John turned his phone off and slipped it into his back pocket, looking up at Stuart, who was looking down at his own phone with furrowed brows, "Paul just messaged me."

"Saying what?" John's expression now matched Stuart's. 

"'Fuck you', then he blocked me."

"Ugh," John scoffed and kicked a stone, picking up his walking speed to get to the beach, "Ignore him." He had an idea, a very stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless - it popped into his mind as soon as Paul had messaged him back, apologising. John felt fucking terrible for even _thinking_ this up, but it wouldn't leave him alone and neither did Paul, so they should go together. Fuck. 

Stuart followed and they returned to laughing, to having fun, to ignoring Paul. 

"Let's sit over here!" John exclaimed and pulled Stu along with him before swinging his legs over the _same_ wall that he and Paul had, staring out into the sea just like he and Paul had, grasping at Stu's hand. God, he hated himself for this, but at the same time, he felt _free._ Being an FP was _tiring_ and _terrible_ and he never thought about what it was like for Paul, the one _with_ BPD. 

Stu sat down next to him and pulled his hand away, "This is a beautiful view," He whispered, and it really was, the view was fucking _breathtaking,_ the sky was exactly as it was _that day_ and he was with _Stuart Sutcliffe_ \- he had to complete his plan, though, so he pulled out his phone and pulled Stu in closer, an arm around his shoulder, just like he had done to Paul _that day,_ and took a picture of them. They were both smiling and looking into the camera (something Paul _hated,_ he felt as if pictures could hear his thoughts or see him, which John deemed stupid), looking _truly happy._

Then he turned his phone around and aimed the camera at the sea and sky, so they were both in the picture, and took the picture. 

"Are you going to post those?" Stu asked from beside him, peeking at his phone, intrigued. When Stuart wanted to know what he was doing, what he was looking at or who he was messaging, he didn’t bug him for hours until he told him and he didn’t give up until he knew like Paul did.

_“John? What are you looking at, Johnny? John? Please tell me! Can I see? Johnny, tell me! Show me, please… please?”_

_“Nothing much, Paul, just a Tumblr post.”_

_“But I want to see! Please show me! Johnny, please?”_

John scoffed quietly, so quiet that Stu couldn’t hear and turned to him, “Yeah, I am, is that okay?” He asked, waiting for Stu to give permission to post them. Paul would see the pictures. He had John’s Instagram post notifications on - he’d definitely see it and John felt apprehensive as well as excited… if Stu knew his plan, he’d think he was an asshole. Well, he was, and he knew it. 

Why did Paul even love him?

“Sure,” Stuart replied, leaning his head on John’s shoulder as he watched the younger hesitate and hover his finger over the post button. Finally, he pressed it, and they watched together as the progress bar filled up. It was posted. Stuart and John at Paul and John’s place, the place they had their first date, first kiss, their first ‘I love you’s - John suddenly felt sick to the stomach. He shrugged Stuart off of his shoulder and looked out into the sea again.

_“John? What’s your favourite place to be?”_

_“The wall at the beach, our first kiss. Remember?”_

_“Of course I remember, Johnny. It’s my favourite too.”_

He tried to forget about Paul for the rest of the day and just have fun with Stuart, but his mind wouldn’t stop saying - no, chanting - his name. It was like a dull ache of _Paul, Paul, Paul_ and he couldn’t get it out of his head, along with the guilt that was gnawing away at him from the inside out. 

The day ended a few hours later. Stu and John lay on the beach together, getting covered in sand every time they moved. John knew they probably should have bought a blanket with them but couldn’t care less, especially when Stu was giggling beside him, and then he was giggling too - the sun had set completely and a light shade of grey mixed with spots of orange from the sun had adorned the sky. 

Silence. Everything was silent apart from the soft inhale and exhale of their breathing and the quiet crash of waves from the sea. Then footsteps in the sand. Then John felt someone kick him in the side, albeit not that hard - it still fucking hurt though. 

“You fucking asshole!” It was Paul’s brother, Michael, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Another kick. John looked up at him and realised Mike was crying angry, salty tears, face red with stress.

“What the fuck, Mike! Stop kicking me!” John yelled and stood up quickly, helping Stu up too - the sand that had been on them fell off like sad confetti, falling in grains to the ground below them to join the other sand grains.

Mike attempted to punch John, but John grabbed his fist before he could do it and held it still, his own hand shaking because of the anger making Mike’s shake, and God, he could _feel_ the anger. It was _coursing_ through Mike and John could tell. John knew what this was about.

He decided to ask anyway, “What the fuck have I done?” 

The younger gaped at him for a second before speaking, “You’re a fucking dickhead, John Lennon!” He yelled, “That picture you fucking posted. I was with Paul when he saw it, and guess what happened? I bet you can guess! He cried for four hours, Lennon, four fucking hours, and since then he hasn’t gotten up from laying on the sofa. He won’t react to my voice, he won’t fucking _react,_ you hurt him so badly, John, and you knew what the fuck you were doing.” He pulled his shaking fist back and moved his gaze to Stu, who stood behind John, completely shocked and unable to do anything else than stare at them as they yelled.

He looked back at John, “He blamed our Mum’s death on himself. Said she got sick of him. Said you’re getting sick of him and said that you’re going to leave him like everyone else has. I swear to fucking God, Lennon, you’ve hurt him so bad, more than you ever have before. He said to me that he loves you. That he loves you so fucking much and that _you_ hate him, that _you_ don’t care about him and that _you_ left him.”

“He won’t- he won’t listen to me-” Mike sobbed harshly, “You’re so selfish, Lennon,” He whispered before turning on his heel and walking away angrily, leaving prints in the sand wherever he stepped. 

_“I’m sorry, Johnny… I’m sorry, can you forgive me?”_   
  
“Please don’t leave me, John, please don’t leave…”

_“I fucking hate myself… I love you, Johnny… don’t leave me…”_

Oh, fuck. He’d really fucked up. 

“Jo-John?” Stu asked from behind him. John jumped, completely forgetting that he was there. He forgot that he wasn’t alone, everything had gone silent again and John could only focus on the chanting in his mind, which was back - _Paul, Paul, Paul._

“I need to- I need to go see Paul.”

And he ran. He ran to Paul’s house, all the way there, he didn’t stop when his legs got tired, he didn’t stop when he felt he might be sick, he only stopped when he got there. Stood outside the door, John caught his breath for a couple minutes before knocking urgently on the door, waiting for someone to answer. It’d probably be Mike as their father was away for the week, and well, Paul probably didn’t want to get up.

And yes, Mike did answer the door, but tried to slam it on him right after. Luckily, John was able to stop the door from closing and pushed right past the younger, rushing into the living room. Paul lay on the sofa, a thin blanket atop him in darkness. The only light was a small lamp in the corner of the room, but other than that, the room was dark.

“Paul?” John called out to him and knelt beside him, “It’s John.”

“What do you want?” Paul whispered gently, opening his eyes to look at John, who was now blushing a deep red - he wanted him to apologise, wanted John to apologise for being an asshole, wanted to lean in and kiss him as a way of saying that he forgives him, but he wasn’t completely sure that John would actually do that. He hoped, though, and it seemed like it’d be enough. John stared at him, stared at Paul’s red eyes, his tired, tired eyes and the bags that were under them. When was the last time he’d slept?

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking dick, I know, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but- I’m sorry, Paulie. I’m sorry.” He rushed out, trying to sound as sincere as possible, because he was sincere, he meant it. He meant it all, his apology, every time he’d said ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ll never leave you’ - he had meant it every time.

“You’re a dick, John, yes, but I still love you.” Paul replied after contemplating his words for a minute. His hand came out of the blanket and John felt a sting on his face - Paul had slapped him. Yeah, he knew he deserved that. He knew he deserved the slap, and Paul agreeing with him because, yes, he was a dick.

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Will you two get a room?”

And they did.


End file.
